


Fragmentation

by dancer4813



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Guilt, Post-Episode: s03e15 Spacetime, Skye | Daisy Johnson Needs a Hug, Survivor Guilt, The Wooden Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 22:08:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6538060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancer4813/pseuds/dancer4813
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm here," Lincoln said, crouching next to her, grasping her hand.  <br/>"I couldn't save him," she said, and he saw tears gather in her eyes. He wiped them gently away, shushing her softly. </p>
<p>Lincoln and Coulson find Daisy on the roof after 3x15, "Spacetime". <br/>A prompt from agentcarter45 on Fanfiction.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fragmentation

**Author's Note:**

> This little oneshot was a request from agentcarter45 on my last oneshot, "Self Immolation".   
> Yes, I realize they rhyme, and while that wasn't intended, I do sort of like it. The two oneshots are connected in no way by their plot, but the themes are similar and I'd definitely recommend checking it out.

The explosions from above had stopped, several of the security cameras had gone dark, and Coulson had made the executive decision to find Lincoln himself. The last he’d heard through the coms, the man had seen Ward, and knowing Lincoln as he did… The Inhuman might have proved himself to be loyal during their previous mission together, but Coulson was still wary, especially if Ward- that thing was involved. 

He knew Daisy had shared a lot with Lincoln, but he wasn’t sure how much. Hopefully the man who would kill on her behalf had not learned of the emotional and mental trauma Grant Ward had put her through. Though, if Daisy’s vision was to be believed it could be that he was too disabled to fight at all. No, that thing wasn’t Ward, but it was powerful, and an unknown in the equation.

Coulson sped up, rushing down a hall and up a flight of stairs, going as fast as he could. He suddenly thought of HYDRA kidnapping Inhumans. What would they do with two injured Inhumans? Leave them be?

He had to find Lincoln and Skye. 

“Daisy, it’s Daisy, damn it,” he muttered to himself, running down another hall. 

He turned the corner and was partially relieved, partially concerned about Lincoln lying face-down on the ground, certainly unconscious. 

“Lincoln, Lincoln, wake up,” he said, lightly tapping the side of the blond’s arm. His face was bleeding, but the cuts looked mostly superficial, just messy.

The man’s eyes blinked open slowly, then he sprung up from the ground, frantically searching for his attackers. 

“They already left,” Coulson explained, standing to his own feet. 

“And Daisy?”

“Still on the roof as far as I know,” Coulson said, jerking his head up. 

Lincoln’s eyes widened and he practically sprinted toward the staircase. “Then what are we waiting for? We need to get up there!”

Lincoln took off. And while Coulson was grateful that Lincoln was worried for Daisy’s wellbeing, he did wish the man had slowed down. Time was of the essence – he wasn’t going to call the rookie back and he knew the Inhuman could handle himself – Coulson just wanted to be able to keep up.

-0-

Lincoln sprinted up the stairs, vaguely noting that he needed to work on his cardio more often during training sessions. The top of the stairs came into view, as well as a sign saying “Roof Access”, and Lincoln sped up, fear for Daisy fueling him almost as much as the adrenaline pumping through his veins. 

“Daisy?” he called, rushing through the door to the roof, only to see her on the ground in front of him. The billboard above him was in flames, and a piece of metal fell to his right, making him flinch away. He scanned the surrounding rooftop, but saw no one, and so walked to the pair lying on the cold ground.

“Lincoln?” Daisy coughed out, her breathing ragged. He noticed Charles lying next to her, the small bird he’d been carrying only inches from his outstretched palm.

“I’m here,” he said, crouching next to her, grasping her hand. 

“I couldn’t save him,” she said, and he saw tears gather in her eyes. He wiped them gently away, shushing her softly. 

“It’s okay, Daisy,” he said, shaking his head. “But where did Malick and the others go? Was Ward with them?”

“Ward?” she asked, looking confused. Her breathing was labored, and he saw several gashes across her face when she turned to look him in the face. “Ward is dead. He died on the other side of the Monolith,” she rasped, coughing again. “But Malick left in a helicopter with his armor and his goons.”

She giggled suddenly, looking away from him, but it was too high-pitched, too airy. 

“Goons,” she muttered, another chuckle escaping her before she coughed again. 

Lincoln turned her head back to face him, making sure he didn’t jerk her neck in any way. He had already been concerned when she didn’t try to stand up, but now he was pretty sure something was wrong. Her rambling could be explained later.

“Daisy,” he said, trying to stay calm. She didn’t look him in the eye. “Daisy.”

“Hmm?” she asked, her dark brown eyes meeting his. “You called?”

Lincoln moved out from in front of the firelight behind him and noted that her pupils didn’t constrict as they should have. A concussion at the very least, then. 

“You’re bleeding,” she noted, her free hand reaching up to wipe away some of the blood that had dripped from his cuts. “Just like in my vision.”

Her voice was distant, and her eyes started to flutter shut. 

“Daisy, you can’t sleep right now,” Lincoln said, trying to sound authoritative and keep his voice from trembling. “Stay awake just a bit longer.”

“I had another one,” she said, her eyes opening again, her gaze focused a bit more than it had been. She tried to turn her head to Charles, but when she winced Lincoln braced her head with both his hands. 

“No, stay looking at me,” he said, rubbing a thumb on her temple even as he tried to adopt his more professional doctor behavior. “You had another what?”

“It was Charles,” she murmured, blinking up at him, tears gathering again, her breath catching. “A vision of the future – I saw Earth, her cross, SHIELD, blood…”

Lincoln’s mouth gaped. He had no idea what she was rambling about, but if it really had been another vision of the future... What had she seen?

At that moment Coulson burst through the door, panting. 

“Daisy!” he called, echoing Lincoln’s earlier cry before seeing the two of them on the ground. He rushed forward, crouching on her other side, in between her and Charles. 

“Phil, I’m sorry,” she said, waving her left hand around until it connected with his knee. She tried to turn her head again, but Lincoln kept it in place. 

“Sir, she’s got a concussion and she was coughing up blood earlier,” Lincoln told Coulson, who’s eyes flicked upward to Lincoln’s face. “I haven’t seen any injuries other than those on her face, but that doesn’t mean she could have some other internal damage.”

Coulson took a breath and nodded, closing his eyes briefly before activating his com link. 

“Fitz? Simmons? Do you read?”

Lincoln felt so stupid for forgetting about his own piece of identical technology. He’d been with SHIELD long enough to understand most of their gear, and yet he’d forgotten his coms. 

Coulson must have gotten an answer, because he pulled away from the two still on the ground as he rattled off orders for med evac and the like, patting Daisy’s hand and standing to wave over the side of the roof. Daisy whined at the loss of contact, but Lincoln just shushed her, rubbing his fingers around her temples. He wished he could use his abilities or medical experience to stop her pain, but since he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on or going wrong, he didn’t want to hurt her more.

“Robin,” Daisy said suddenly, trying to turn her head toward Charles again. “The bird – a robin.”

Lincoln glanced to the side, still holding her head in place, and saw the small carved bird sitting on the roof. 

“You want the carved robin?” he clarified, rubbing her temples again. Daisy nodded with small movements and stretched her hand toward it, though when her fingers brushed Charles’ jacket she flinched backward, knowing what she’d felt. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she whimpered, pulling the hand into her chest and rocking slightly from side to side. 

“Hey, shhh,” Lincoln whispered, dropping a chaste kiss to her forehead before reaching over Charles’ body to grab the small sculpture. “Here you go, here’s the robin for you.”

Daisy didn’t say anything, but squeezed her eyes shut, tears flowing full force as she brought the bird to her face, clutching it with white hands.

“Coulson, what’s our ETA for med evac?” Lincoln called, growing more concerned for Daisy when the roof beneath him started to shake slightly. “She’s not calming down – we need a sedative, and fast!”

“Any moment now,” Coulson said, rushing back over. “I was just giving Fitzsimmons instructions to go back to the Playground. There isn’t much either of them can do now.”

They waited for a tense few moments, which could have been anywhere from thirty seconds to three or four minutes, as the shaking grew stronger and stronger before ceasing abruptly.

“Daisy?” Lincoln asked, smoothing her hair away from her face. “Daisy, you have to wake up.”

“Skye?” Coulson tried, crouching down even as the whir of a Quinjet’s engine’s descended above them. 

Several agents ran out, a stretcher with head brace in their hands, dropping it quickly next to Daisy and skillfully lifting her onto it. They buckled her in place, then lifted her together and made their way back to the Quinjet even as another pair of agents ran out with a plain stretcher. 

“No need,” Lincoln said, raising a hand and levitating Charles’ body with his powers. Not only had they felt unstable from emotions, but he felt he owed the man something – Charles had saved Daisy, had saved all of them in a way. 

The agents looked wary, but after a harsh glare from the Director they hurriedly brought the stretcher back inside the jet and one of them gestured to a cot on which Lincoln could rest Charles’ body. Coulson walked in behind them and the ramp closed, just as the agents finished buckling Daisy to her own cot. 

Lincoln immediately reached for some ice packs from the first aid compartment, smashing and shaking them quickly, each freezing in just seconds. 

He placed them on her head, intent on getting the swelling down, then gestured for the other agents to do what needed to be done. He was drained and he brushed some blood away from his eyes. The cut on his head was still bleeding.

As the agents helped Daisy with her own injuries, Coulson efficiently wiped away the grime on Lincoln’s face and applied gauze and bandages with a practiced hand. It made Lincoln wonder how many times the man had needed to patch up others on his team. 

And, when they arrived at the Playground and Daisy was wheeled inside, the rest of the team standing watch in the hall to wait for a prognosis that he couldn’t assist in giving, Lincoln wondered about how many times the man had needed to patch up Daisy, formerly Skye, during the few short years she’d been a SHIELD agent. 

Knowing her, probably too many to keep count of.


End file.
